


Cold frost and sunshine

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, But mostly fluff, Family, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance, Vague angst, seriously it will rot your teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8180215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: For a prompt on my Tumblr: omg Utakata and Haku making delicate icebubble art pieces in the winter and Zabuza scoffs at them but he still sits and watches them put the pieces together and even volunteers kubikiribocho sometimes because that hole at the end is a pretty good bubble ring.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy-ish AU, arranged marriage, vaguely tangential to another ZabUta fic I'm working on at the moment. Title comes from Alexandr Pushkin's _Winter morning_.

Zabuza wakes up alone, which is rather disappointing since he distinctly remembers going to sleep with a pretty jinchuuriki in his arms. He’d also thought they had moved past this kind of sneaking out, though there’s every chance that Utakata didn’t leave for the same reasons he used to.

With a faint sigh, Zabuza rolls over and slides out of bed, reaching for Kubikiribōchō before his feet are even fully on the floor. Only when it’s close at hand does he take a moment to pull on pants and a shirt, in deference to the winter’s bite and Haku’s inevitable scolding. Utakata’s thickest robe is gone, as is his haori, and Zabuza frowns at the empty hooks for a moment. Did he go out? There’s no cause for them to make the trek into the village today, and they both agreed to take a day off from training to rest. 

Then he hears the sound of laughter echoing from the yard. 

A little surprised, Zabuza pauses for a moment, just listening. Haku’s soft laughter is foremost, but beneath it, warm and full, is Utakata’s, and Zabuza can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard it in the year since their marriage was arranged. Something curls in his chest, sharp and tight, but he shoulders his sword and ignores it, following the sound to the back door and out onto the porch. 

The world is white and softened around the edges, covered in several inches of fresh, soft snow, just as Utakata had predicted last night. Zabuza stops on the edge of the steps, bare feet a few centimeters from where the white covering starts, and just for a moment he has to smile. 

Utakata and Haku are out in the middle of the yard, chakra curling around them. Pipe in hand, Utakata is blowing bubbles and guiding them down into an intricate sculpture, where Haku’s cold wraps around and freezes them in place, perfect orbs of translucent ice. The figure taking shape looks like a swan on the verge of flight, wings outspread, and Zabuza can see more scattered around the house like sentries. A dragon, an octopus, an arching dolphin, a tiger mid-leap, a delicate tree hung with ornaments, all made of chakra-infused ice and shining like diamond in the dawn’s light. 

As he watches, the last bubble settles delicately at the edge of an outstretched wing, and Haku carefully, intently locks it into place, then steps back with a bright smile. “What next?” he asks enthusiastically.

Utakata smiles back at him, and Zabuza is struck in the chest like a physical blow with the realization - yet again - of just how pretty his husband is. The Sandaime Mizukage was rather plain, but his son - 

His son is one of the most fucking beautiful people Zabuza has ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on, and he belongs to  _Zabuza_. 

Pretty things don’t last in Zabuza’s hands. They break or scar or are damaged beyond repair, and he’s left clutching a worthless shell of something that used to be precious. He’d worried, at first, that this would be the same way. But Utakata is a jinchuuriki, and there’s nothing in the entire world that could so much as scratch him without a hell of a lot of effort. 

Maybe this will be something Zabuza can finally keep. 

Heedless of the icy-hot bite of the snow, Zabuza steps off the porch, setting Kubikiribōchō aside. “Someone’s been busy,” he says, rough but amused, and watches both Utakata and Haku jump. 

“Zabuza,” Utakata says readily enough as the younger man turns to face him, though there’s a faint flush rising in his cheeks that Zabuza suspects isn’t entirely due to the cold. “Where are your shoes?”

Zabuza just chuckles, and takes three long steps forward to lean down, hook his arms around the backs of Utakata’s thighs, and lift him right off his feet. Utakata yelps, grabbing onto his shoulders as Zabuza hoists him up, and he’s laughing again, bright in the chilly air. Haku is smiling at them, tolerant and fond, and when Zabuza catches his eye he turns away pointedly. 

“What’s this about?” Utakata asks amusedly, drawing his gaze back to his husband, and Zabuza gives him a sharp-edged grin.

“You didn’t wake me up,” he accuses, trying for testy even though he knows his tone falls short. 

Utakata blinks down at him, somehow graceful and elegant even in a position that would be undignified for anyone else. His dark hair is falling into his face, into the golden-brown eyes that first caught Zabuza’s attention, and Zabuza shifts his grip so he’s holding him with one arm, reaching up to brush the strands out of Utakata’s face with his free hand. Utakata smiles a little, catching his hand and twining their fingers together like he can read every last one of Zabuza’s fading doubts in his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he says warmly, and he’s still smiling even when he leans down to press a gentle kiss to Zabuza’s lips, his mouth cool and chapped and tasting ever so faintly of green tea. Zabuza kisses him back, because he’d hardly do anything else, and slides his hand back down to squeeze Utakata’s ass. It gets him a quiet sound of amusement, and Utakata pulls back. 

“Are we going to finish the rest of these, or should I just go back inside?” Haku asks, polite but pointed, and Zabuza huffs. He catches Utakata’s eye, gets a brief flash of silent laughter, and reaches out to snag his apprentice by the collar of his robe. A jerk, a heave, a startled squeal, and Zabuza tucks Haku under his free arm as he heads back towards the house. 

“Come on, someone needs to cook for me,” he needles, and cheerfully ignores the quiet sounds of indignation from two fronts. “What were you two doing out here anyway? ‘S barely even dawn.”

“Master Harusame taught me a handful of new seals,” Utakata says, helpfully leaning back in a careful arch to open the door, one hand still braced on Zabuza’s shoulder. “I think we might be able to animate the statues, with enough chakra.”

Yagura will throw a fit, Zabuza is sure. Walking ice sculptures roaming around the village, just when the civilians have gotten over the incident where Haku summoned a snowstorm when he got upset? Yeah, Zabuza’s probably not getting a birthday present from the Mizukage this year. 

But he can hear Haku giggling a little, and he can see Utakata’s smile, small and pleased and directed right at him, and with a laugh Zabuza boots the door open and hauls his two ridiculous burdens inside. 

“Coffee first,” is his only stipulation, and Utakata chuckles and kisses him again. Haku makes an aggrieved, longsuffering noise of protest, but Zabuza just dumps him on the couch with a huff of, “Brat.”

“And what would you call me, then?” Utakata asks, arching a brow at him. 

Zabuza grins right back, all teeth. Utakata’s cheeks flush faintly, and he quickly leans down again to make sure Zabuza’s mouth is occupied with things other than answering. There’s only half a second before their lips connect, but Zabuza just manages to get out, “Mine.”

Utakata very noticeably fails to protest at all. 


End file.
